


Non-Stereotypical Puzzle Piece

by PennamePersona



Series: Clinic AU [9]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Introspection, Sibling Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennamePersona/pseuds/PennamePersona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Seriously, Rose, I actually need your advice on this very serious and life-threatening problem. Your advice specifically. No one else will do. It must be straight from the TentacleTherapist herself. No substitutions allowed. In fact, the very notion of someone else attempting to take your place here is insulting to not only me, but you as well. You just don't know it yet. Don't worry, though, I'm insulted enough for the both of us."</p><p>There. Perfect clarity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non-Stereotypical Puzzle Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Set during their Junior Year of college, before Dave and Jade get together. This includes some Dave & Rose stuff that is actually one of my favorite aspects of this verse, and that I've already written another fic for, which I'll post up eventually, sooner if people are enthusiastic about it! But I will regardless, because it will contain information which I consider to be important (Dave & Rose backstory).
> 
> (Also, there's a bit at the end that's meant to be formatted much better - if anyone knows a way to copy/paste pesterlog text onto AO3's text box, I'd appreciate the knowledge greatly. Or even if you just happen to know how others go about doing it. I may fix it some other time, when I can get to it, but I have limited access to proper computers.)

 

"Rose," You say, face down on the couch, knowing full well that she can hear you. "Rooooooose. Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose."

 

The sound of her typing pauses, briefly, then continues, pointedly.

 

"Rose, come on, I need you," You say, turning your head to better allow the sound of your desperation to reach her.

 

"And I need to finish this." She says, click-clacking away at her work, not sparing a moment for her poor, suffering brother.

 

You make unintelligible groaning sounds in response, while pushing your face back into the cushions. You decide that her lack of rebuttal means you have won this round. Also, your nose kind of hurts from the weird pressure the position is putting on it. You will fight through the feeling and get your point across. Even though it's sort of hard to breath like this. 

 

...

 

Your nose is really starting to get uncomfortable. You flip over and stare at the ceiling, aware that the position you are in resembles that of the classic Freud patient, stretched out on the nice couch, ready to lay all their secrets bare. Normally, this would make you slightly uncomfortable, since Rose may take this as a chance to grab her cursed notepad and drag her chair over, then proceed to prod dramatically at your delicate psyche until you either slipped your deepest, darkest, most embarrassing thoughts to her (no guarantee on accuracy or lack of over-exaggeration), or left, depending on what kind of a mood you are in.

 

However, today, you actually kind of  _want_ her to do that. Okay, you don't actually want the notepad to make an appearance, but you want her advice. That should really speak for itself, you think, since you don't turn to her for advice on a regular basis. You ask Rose when you need serious advice, when you think that no one else could understand, but you do also make an attempt to not get into situations that require that kind of serious advice.

 

Not to say that you don't love your sister. You do love Rose, and you'd admit to it, if someone cared to be certain, but there are parts of you that are difficult to get away from, parts of you that you are somewhat convinced (concerned) (afraid) you will never get away from. Your personal, internal wall and difficulty in both being close to people and expressing that closeness are parts of you that not only fall under the category of potentially impossible, or at the very least difficult, to escape, but also the category of shared traits between Rose and yourself.

 

All of this is to say that, if you really do need Rose's advice, your situation is certainly dire. You would think that Rose would know this, but perhaps you haven't made yourself clear enough. That would hardly be a first.

 

"Seriously, Rose, I actually need your advice on this very serious and life-threatening problem. Your advice specifically. No one else will do. It must be straight from the TentacleTherapist herself. No substitutions allowed. In fact, the very notion of someone else attempting to take your place here is insulting to not only me, but you as well. You just don't know it yet. Don't worry, though, I'm insulted enough for the both of us."

 

There. Perfect clarity.

 

Rose sighs through her nose, an obvious sign of her irritation with your neediness. She closes her laptop, producing a noise just loud enough to make it obvious that the closing was not done with care, but instead, with aggravation. Subtle, passive-aggressive communication. Ah, what a lovely language to be fluent in.

 

"Alright, Dave," She says, the irritation lacing her voice more intensely than usual. She has been working very hard, lately. Makes you glad that you don't write. Makes you more glad that you put your creative joy into side projects, not your major work. "What is it? Reoccurring nightmares? The stress of college too much for you? Rethinking taking that fifth year? Perhaps it's your fear of failure, moving into every area of your life, crumbling your confidence and preventing you from realizing your ambitions?"

 

"Nah," You say, because you know this game. "Just some romance bullshit."

 

There is a brief pause, and you know by sound alone that Rose is moving her chair and bringing her notepad. You continue staring at the ceiling from behind your shades.

 

"Shall I try to guess?" Rose asks, and if anyone else were here, they'd hear the amusement in her tone and assume that was that. But you know Rose and you know the rules, same as she does.

 

"Need some hints?" You ask, dryness seasoning your tone just on the surface.

 

"I'll bet I can get to it with just one question," She says, and you already know the slight curve of her lip, the faint smirk accenting the challenge.

 

"So ask it." Your tone is flat.

 

"Green or blue?"

 

"Is that in reference to shirt color, eye color, or text color?" You ask. "And what about different shades? Arrogance, Rosie."

 

"Answer the question, Dave." She says, tone unchanged, still the hint of amusement, still the slight smirk. But the rules are the same, and you know Rose better than anyone else does, and the same is true on the opposite side - she's concerned, just a touch, and she almost doesn't want you knowing it.

 

"Green." You say, more whisper than solid sound. You're starting to break the rules, here, and it seems that your heart knows it. Whoa, calm down little guy, you need to be pumping blood more calmly than that. Don't wanna feel your heartbeat quite like  _that_.

 

Rose is quiet. You're actually a bit worried, even though you kind of know that it's irrational. Rose might be the only person you could break these rules with. She's the only one you're close enough to that actually knows them, and besides, she's the only one that understands closely enough to the way you do. She was there. You saw each other in your most vulnerable moments, and you know that neither of you will ever forget that.

 

"When?" She asks, quietly. You glance over and see that she's set the notepad aside. You don't have words to express the kind of relief you are feeling.

 

"Like, last week?" You say, as though you aren't certain. "Listening to the newest remix. It was. Different."

 

"Different how?" She asks, leaning forward a bit. You see her out of the corner of your eye, and sigh. It's strange how taking a layer of her mask away makes it seem more like there's one there. An eye untrained in Rose would see no emotion on her face, but you see the concern, the seriousness, the willingness to listen. You sit up, push your shades into your hair and rub a hand over your face.

 

"Vulnerable," You say, more confidently, now, talking to your sister, to Rose, outside of the rules, outside of the game. 

 

"Oh," She says, in that quiet, slightly uncertain tone. You don't hear it very often from her, since it not only means that she's not playing by the rules, but she's admitting that she doesn't understand. Because she doesn't. You don't really understand it much, either. This is not comfortable or well-charted territory for either of you.

 

You sit in quiet for a moment, and then she's pulling off her sweatshirt. It's black and says "I doubt, therefore I might be" on it in white lettering. It's big on her, most likely a gift from John or Jade. John, you think. He went through that phase of gifting people with custom printed things, ranging from the typical t-shirts, coffee mugs, and buttons to less typical temporary tattoos, belt buckles, and a kind of visor with an actual bag on it - a "fanny pack for your head", and more. You are sure to wear the awful tie he made you at only the most professional occasions. 

 

You unzip your own hoodie, which is maroon and has thumbholes, and fits you better than Rose's fits her. The two of you exchange the articles of clothing, and you know that the instant feeling of comfort you experience is mirrored in Rose. She stands up from her chair, then sits down next to you, wearing your hoodie and old leggings and no socks, knees pulled up to her chest, exposed just as you are in her sweatshirt and old jeans and white socks, feet on the floor.

 

You don't know how people view your relationship with your sister from the outside. You know that there is a group of people who have gotten used to it, that there are at least two people who understand it as closely as is possible to without actually experiencing it, and that anyone who matters to you is okay enough with it that it doesn't matter. 

 

You also know that your closeness to your twin sister is ridiculously important to you. The two of you might not always express it in the most obvious or intimate of ways, but you know that if you reach out, Rose will always be right there. You know that if you reach out just barely farther, John and Jade will be there, ready to come closer if needed. You know that if you desire even more, you could call out, and your cousins would respond, come if you needed them. And if you were truly desperate for more people, there is John and Jade's family, with their father who took you and Rose in during the most difficult time in your life, with their cousins who tried to help, and if nothing else, did their best to suspend judgement. But Rose will always be closest to you in some ways, some core ways that are so tied in with experiences that shaped you in key ways, so very relevant to who you are and who you are not, that you think some parts of you, some deep parts of you that you maybe won't always think about or need, are indistinguishable from Rose.

 

"What if I screw something up?" You ask, unsure how rhetorical you are being. "What if. What if I do something wrong? What if I ruin everything?"

 

"What if," Rose says. "You don't?"

 

"Rose, what if I  _fucking do_?" You realize your hands are shaking somewhat, that your heart is still pounding. "What if it all falls apart, what if I make a wrong move and everything is gone?"

 

"It won't be," She says, and the lack of complete certainty in her tone soothes you slightly, because she is being honest in the way that she can. "They wouldn't leave us. They care about us, Dave, you know that. I know that."

 

Her hand is on your arm, and her eyes are so very unguarded. 

 

You hug your sister. She hugs you back.

 

* * *

 

 

You are walking back to your apartment when you pull your phone out of your pocket and see that you have two missed calls, both from Jade (or, alternatively, Nerd, since that is her contact name in your phone). 

 

Shit. Are you ready for this? You don't know. You're still feeling sort of off from your visit to Rose's, all emotionally different, like you're still putting the pieces you laid bare back together in yourself. Maybe it would be best to do this now, while you're still possibly prepared to lay yourself bare again, instead of later, when it'll be a bit easier to avoid this.

 

And you kind of actually don't want to avoid this. Which is terrifying.

 

You are within sight of your apartment building when you call Jade back. She picks up after three rings, and you don't know if you're relieved or afraid or both or neither.

 

"Dave! What's up?" She asks, sounding like any other day, like earlier she was just calling about casual stuff, hanging out, whatever. She didn't leave a voicemail either time, so you suppose there is no reason to believe this isn't true. Just because you are angsting doesn't mean she is.

 

"Could ask you the same," You say. She laughs, but not because what you said was funny.

 

"I kind of wanted to talk to you." She says, sounding slightly nervous in a very Jade kind of way.

 

"I can tell." You say. "I was at Rose's place, sorry. My phone was on silent."

 

Also, you might have been too terrified to talk to her, anyway. Best not to mention that, you think, standing in front of your apartment building, looking up at the architecture.

 

"Oh," She says, in a way that suggests more of an explanation than you technically gave. But this is Jade, who knows more about you than maybe you would have chosen to show her, had circumstances been different. But circumstances weren't different, and as you gained Rose in ever more important ways, so you did John and Jade.

 

"Do you want to come over?" You ask, walking up your building's stairs, sort of wishing it was an impulsive decision and not something you knew you had to do and were kind of making yourself do. On the bright side, it's not like Jade isn't good company.

 

"Yeah," She says. "If that's alright, I mean. We don't have to talk right now, if you're busy, or all talked out from Rose."

 

"Nah, come on over," You say. "Unless you're busy."

 

"No!" She says, a little bit too quickly. You almost want to laugh, from a variety of thoughts and feelings, the surface of which is that maybe you're both kind of in the same boat here, and that's sort of a comforting idea. 

 

"Give me, like, twenty minutes," She says.

 

"Alright," You say, inserting your key, turning it, and walking into your apartment. "See you then."

 

You both hang up, and you take your key out, close the door, and look at your place of residence with a sort of detachment. Talking to Jade Harley on its own is not so terrible of an experience. In fact, you'd even call it enjoyable. You honestly like Jade, just like you honestly like John and Rose. But this is more than just talking to Jade Harley on its own. This is talking to Jade Harley about actual, important things that involve your feelings. You still don't know how this is going to pan out, and that's kind of freaking you out.

 

Alright, Dave. Time to breath. Time to calm down and breath. It's just Jade. ( _just Jade_ , as if that could ever be something a person could say and mean, as if Jade is ever  _just_ )

 

You sit on the couch (same couch where you realized you were in love) and just stare ahead of you, trying to calm down your mind. You think you must have only sat there for a few seconds, but maybe you've fallen out of time, because you clearly hear a knock on the door, and who else could it be but Jade?

 

"Come in," You say, not moving from your spot, because honestly, the strangest thing in this particular moment is that Jade knocked at all. She's got a fucking key, everyone close to you does (Rose, John, Jade, leaving out Dirk and Roxy because you are 120% sure they could break in just fine on their own, and besides, if you give them a key, that's basically just saying "yeah, come in my apartment and scare the living shit out of me with some prank" and you already have John for that, not to mention Rose if she gets in one of her moods), and usually she'll just walk in.

 

Yeah. This isn't just you, then. It's her, too, and whether it's that she's feeling what you're feeling or she just knows you're off, you don't know, but at least it's  _not just you_.

 

"Sup." You say, glancing over at her.

 

"Oh, not much," She says, sounding nervous in such a Jade way, you almost smile. 

 

You tilt your head, just slightly, at the spot next to you on the couch (where she sat when you realized  _anyway avoiding that come on Dave you have to have a talk not get frozen up over shit you can't help_ ), and she sits.

 

Both of you are silent for a moment that feels like the twenty minutes you were missing before, and then, in an attempt to start conversation, you say:

 

"So, you wanted to talk?"

 

At the same time that Jade is blurting out:

 

"I think I'm in love with you,"

 

Because the two of you are smooth like that.

 

So then you just sit and stare at each other, except not quite, because your shades are still on, which is actually starting to feel wrong which is really fucking weird.

 

So you take them off.

 

And look at her.

 

And repeat her words.

 

And she just keeps staring at you, like you didn't just say the thing that was terrifying you, and somehow you get the feeling that she might actually be more scared of this than you, which is the weirdest thing you've ever heard of for about three and a half seconds, until something hits you in a comparatively gentle way.

 

"I won't leave," You say. "I won't. Neither will Rose. I know we aren't good at showing that, but ever since. Ever since you and John wouldn't have left. We wouldn't have, either. You guys are just as much to us as we are to you. So even if I wasn't. I mean, even if. I'd still stay."

 

Fucking shit, dammit, smooth as hell, Dave, just. Great job at that.

 

Mentally face-palming.

 

You are briefly so, so glad that Rose wasn't around to hear that, and then you see something that throws you out of whatever sphere of acceptance and okay-ness you were in.

 

Jade's eyes are shining, but not with happiness. With  _tears_. She's crying, Jade's crying, did you make her cry? Did you make Jade cry, why did you make her cry, you thought you said  _good_ stuff, why is this happening, why is Jade crying what did you do what why -

 

" _Oof_ \- "

 

"Sorry!"

 

"Jeez, Harley, a little less eager, next time. You're gonna knock me over one of these days."

 

"I wasn't thinking! I just wanted to hug you!"

 

"Admirable as those decision-making skills are, I do actually still need to breathe, as it happens."

 

"You sure are long-winded for someone who's supposedly out of breath."

 

"I am so offended right now, Jade."

 

"Sure you are."

 

You're smiling at each other, in that joking, teasing way you've been doing since you were kids. It feels so normal, for a moment, that you actually manage to forget that you were panicking just a few minutes ago, that this conversation is a Conversation, an Important Conversation That Can Define The Rest Of Your Life. 

 

Somehow, it seems natural with Jade. And somehow, despite all of your worry, you can't actually manage to be surprised by that. Jade knows you, so much of you, and the idea of her knowing more, of being vulnerable to her...

 

Well, you don't automatically reject it, which is saying quite a bit.

 

"Do you want to get dinner?" You ask, trying and actually succeeding to keep your voice even. "I'll even pay."

 

"I'm honored," She says, teasingly, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, in that cliché, sweet, nervous gesture. "I. I'd really like that."

 

You half-smile at her, and she smiles back, in that way of hers, in that way that John shares, in that way of such genuine and complete feeling that sometimes you feel guilty, being faced with it and being unable to return it.

 

Not now, though. Not this time.

 

You text Rose, later, once Jade is gone to get ready (like she needs to get all dolled up for a date with you, the concept is simultaneously ridiculous and too much for you).

 

got a date

 

Check your wallet.

 

You do, and you feel like crying, but instead, you burst out laughing, harder than you have in ages, in that way that only Rose can pull out of you.

 

Nestled in your wallet, in the place where you kept an outdated one since high school, just for the sake of it, is a brand new condom. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I hope you all enjoyed the fic, and kudus and comments are very much appreciated. 
> 
> You can also reach me on my tumblr at: pennamepersona.tumblr.com if you'd like to talk about this fic, some of my other fics, this verse, other stuff, or my animosity for the word inflammable.
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A375K8Q)


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